Afire
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: Tie-in for Valkyrie 6x01 A little missing scene that some people requested.


**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine, merely borrowing to have some fun with. **

**A/N: For Sav, because she waited so _patiently_ (spammed my phone with Stana) and I love her for it. I've had this half written for months and finished for weeks. I really don't have an excuse besides laziness, the weird mood I've been in lately and the fact that I was attempting to do nanowrimo. That didn't work out so well. I would also just like to take a moment here to thank every person that reads or reviews any of my stories. I do honestly appreciate it and I'm not just saying that. It reminds me that there's something in this world I can do, something that's mine no matter what. I may not be rich, I definitely don't have a job I like, and I'm reaching that point in life where I feel like I should be more accomplished but my words are always here, just waiting to get out. So yes, it means the world to me that even one person reads my stuff and enjoys it. **

**This is a little missing scene from Valkyrie (6x01) and yeah, I know other people have probably done something similar. But I've honestly avoided episode tags so I haven't personally read them. I actually haven't been reading fanfic much at all. **

They both know he isn't going anywhere. The moment she grabs his face, pulls him in and presses her mouth to his, it's rather clear he isn't leaving anytime soon. Immediately? She's showing him with the swipe of her tongue across his lips and the way she hikes her leg up to circle his hip, that there's only one thing she wants _immediately_ and it does not involve him walking out the door.

No. It involves those hands sliding over her back, down her sides, fumbling the buttons on her shirt. His fingers graceless from the moment she shifts her hips, glides over his thigh in impatience. Her body already clenching, seeking him and finding nothing. It's been too long. Six weeks since she's felt the heat of his skin burning against her own, the feel of him moving inside of her. His kiss.

And his lips are restless, unsatisfied and hungry against her own. Mouths unrelenting, breathing ragged before either of them can even manage to divest the other of one single article of clothing. But Beckett can't help herself. She needs to touch, to grope, to clutch her fingers into his shoulders, grip the fabric in her hands as she gives a rough jerk of her hips. Both moaning the moment he slides his thigh more fully between hers, lets her rock against him even though it's been more than a month since they've been together. He shows patience where she has none.

She doesn't. Have any. Not an ounce. She can't think, can't convince her brain to do anything more than chant his name as she rides his thigh. Still a barriers between them and yet it only adds to the friction. Has her panting against his lips, breath mingling with his.

She was ready the moment she saw him. Her body responding to his, missing him, aching for him. Weeping in need. And he's here. He's solid and warm and real. He exists in this space, her space and that had obviously been more than enough to get her going, to have her pawing at him.

His teeth sink into her bottom lip, worrying it before he soothes it with his tongue as she mumbles against him. Another 'oh god' as she feels her muscles tighten. The need for release creeping up her spine, making her middle tingle. She forgets the day, the training exercise and her short comings and with that last shred of control snapping, she pulls him in tighter, crushing her chest against his and it's no longer her rocking over his thigh on her own.

He helps. Palms guide her, have her face flushing as a new wave of arousal floods through her. She clings, knowing she's getting herself off against him, fully clothed and she's already embarrassingly close. She knows it. He knows it.

A whisper of her name and the heat bubbling within expands, consumes. It springs apart as she comes silently, shocked and unprepared. Mouth open against his for a brief second and then she's biting down on his lip. Hard, making him groan as her eyes slam shut. Her body shuddering in his arms as he holds her close, kisses her softly. She can feel him smiling and staring.

"You just -"

"Shut up. Don't say anything." She doesn't want his smugness. Not at the moment. She wants his clothes off and him buried deep.

His shirt is the first to go, dropping to the floor before he can even raise an eyebrow. Hers follows and she gives him a smile, palm cradling his cheek as he touches the rings dangling around her neck, his gaze stuck on her engagement band. One moment for them to just _be_. Happily engaged and not a care outside these walls.

The moment vanishes quickly. Dissolves into something heated and raw when he scrapes the backs of his nails up her ribs, slips his thumb beneath her bra to stroke over her taught nipple. One touch and the blaze rages. Hands gripping, pinching and sliding, shoving at fabric as she forces his pants down before he ever steps out of his shoes.

The awkward stumble and the squeal they both let out as they hit the floor, hard enough to have them groaning and Beckett feels the smart in her knee, knows she'll have a bruise. But the thought is brief, fleeting, fluttering down next to them as her bra disappears and his mouth comes up to close over her breast.

Too long. It's been too long since she's held him like this, her fingers in his hair as his teeth scrape over her sensitive skin. Her thighs on either side of his and his hips rocking up into her. His hands tugging at the waistband of her slacks and it takes him growling against her chest, rolling to pin her to the cold floor for her to catch on.

The very second she's kicking free of fabric, he's pushing into her, stealing what little air she has left in her lungs. A quick thrust that has him inside her and their bodies take over, minds numbing. Legs wrap around to bring him closer, arms mimicking the motion, hands gripping his biceps, and nails biting into his skin with every sharp drive of his hips.

There's a rawness in her chest, an ache that only he fills and with each stolen kiss, the sloppy press of mouths between her cries and his moans, the ache lessens.

She tries to keep her eyes locked with his, fails more than once but she fights her body, fights against the coil already tightening in her abdomen and the way she's already fluttering around him. With every thrust that meets his, she's reminded that he's really here.

She loves this man. So much.

"Castle," a moan of his name, enough to have his eyes searching hers and she lets her arms drop next to her head, palms up. Waiting until he links his fingers through hers, raises her arms above her and then her back is arching, neck exposed and his hips rock faster, harder.

She's soaring with the bite of teeth at her shoulder, breaking apart beneath him as he groans, thrusts turning sloppy and his body shaking against hers. Skin sticking with sweat, she's limp and panting, seeking his mouth and finding his temple, his lips caressing the mark just above her collarbone. He grips her hands tighter, stills inside her and she can feel the rumble leave his chest.

Every urgent need leaving with it, bodies sated and still weaved together. Moving is limited, nothing more than mouths meeting lazily, sipping from each other as the trembling subsides. Foreheads touching when he pulls away, squeezes her fingers and then he lets go.

"I think you might've missed me." It's the eyebrow wiggling that has her chuckling and rubbing her thumb over his brow, sweeping back the hair she knocked out of place that makes him look so boyishly handsome.

"You crossed my mind once or twice." He takes the bait, nudges her nose and grumbles, mock pouting. They both know just how much she's missed him and how much he's missed her.

Phone calls, texts, the occasional video chat. Nothing compares to him plastered bare against her, his fingers trailing down to toy with the chain around her neck. She used to be so protective of it, of the ring it held. Never let any boyfriend do more than brush the tips of their fingers against it but Castle is different. He touches things and she's okay with it.

Especially now that it's more than just her mother's ring at home on the thin piece of jewelry. She kisses him as he slides the chain through his fingers, smiling when he lets the ring he gave her slip over his pinky.

"For some reason, Agent Beckett, I don't believe you."

"C'mon Castle, let's get off the floor and maybe I'll let you interrogate me."


End file.
